


The King and I

by mysterycyclone



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 06 Spoilers, wherein I ship Jamie with Sam's Sister in a fic no one asked for or wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterycyclone/pseuds/mysterycyclone
Summary: Days before his execution, a woman appears at Jamie's window and introduces herself by threatening to kick him in the face. She then makes him an offer he can't easily refuse, bringing him with her as they make their escape into London and try to find their way back to Abel.After all, it's not every day you get the opportunity to become the most wanted man in England.(S6 Spoilers!)
Relationships: Jamie Skeet/Sam's Sister
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	The King and I

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a story no one asked for where I ship a character we don’t get enough of with one we have literally never met. I have tormented my best friends with this plot for probably the better part of a year.
> 
> Just imagine a very normal person trying to work while a mad woodland witch screeches about a pairing literally no one else cares about in the corner.
> 
> Enjoy.

Jamie Skeet is an adaptable man. He knows how to roll with the punches, and he thinks he's done rather well in that regard in the past few years, all things considered. From taking care of a dozen kids by himself to becoming a runner to losing Archie to becoming _the bloody king_ to becoming a prisoner of war. He's kept an even keel and learned to adjust to the impossible.

Which is why his first reaction to hearing a light tapping on his window, several floors up from the ground in a castle ruled and patrolled by genocidal nutters, is relief. He leaps out of bed and hurries to the window in the space of a heartbeat. Kefilwe had snuck a message to him earlier, telling him one of her contacts would be by. He can only think of one person insane enough to climb up the side of a castle full of Sigrid's people.

"Five, please tell me that's you--" Jamie mutters, pushing the window open. He freezes. The woman currently hanging from the bloody _wall_ is smaller than Five. Shorter, Asian, with long dark hair and piercing brown eyes. He stares at her in shock and then says in the tone of voice one uses when their waiter has brought them the entirely wrong kind of soup, "You aren't Five."

The woman quirks a brow at him, idly swinging back and forth on a thick black rope suspended somewhere on the floor above his own. There are ugly purple bruises around her wrists, the kind that comes from too tight manacles. Jamie's had a few of his own this past year to not notice them right away. “No, I’m Amber. Do strangely numbered women show up at your window in the dead of the night often?"

"More than you'd think. Suppose I should be glad the last two times it's happened they were wearing clothes." He can't see her very clearly in the darkness, but she looks familiar to him somehow. Has he met her before? Something about her eyes tugs at the back of his mind.

“Well, I really wish we had time to discuss all of that,” she says, glancing around. “But we don’t. The guards here aren’t all complete incompetents and they’re bound to notice me hanging off the side of a building sooner rather than later. Move back for me, please, I'm coming in and I don't want to kick you in the face."

She backs up her words with action, swinging back on the makeshift rope and then pushing herself inside. Jamie takes her hand and gently grabs her shoulder, tugging her inside the window. 

His room is brightly lit, and he can see her clearly in the light. She’s short, as well; she barely reaches his chin when standing next to him, and she looks underfed and pale.

Jamie realizes, with a sinking stomach, that she's wearing a vaccine maker jumpsuit. Bright yellow jumpsuits are assigned to the immune women Sigrid keeps in her camps to make it easier for the guards to track them. Immune women who wear those are typically kept away from the regular political prisoners. They're often trapped in some fertilization camp, the concept of which is enough to fuel his nightmares for the rest of his life. Jamie isn't sure why she's in London, but he's not eager to ask either. 

And she really does look familiar somehow. He can’t place her face, though.

“You’ve got a plan on how to get out of here, then?” Jamie asks after her. Amber is running her hands along the back wall of his room, tapping the plaster here and there.

“Kinda! I know a secret passage that leads out of the castle grounds, which is a good start. You sure you want to pass up an opportunity to become the most wanted man in England?” She grins up at him, teasing and desperate. “I wouldn’t mind the company, you know. It’d be safer.”

Jamie hesitates. Guards check his room every two hours, day and night. They'll notice he's gone within the hour and start the search immediately. Not to mention the risk if he were caught. Sigrid's not above maiming someone if it keeps them in line, especially those she's condemned to death. And there's no guarantee that this Amber woman even knows what she's doing.

Abel has a plan. He knows they do. Kefilwe’s been working on this for weeks. He could ruin everything they've worked to accomplish by leaving now.

But he also can't _stay_ here. It became intolerable years ago. And there's a chance that Abel's plan will fall through. They've been losing more than they've won, despite their best efforts. 

Stay and hope for the best or leave and take his chances in a city full of cultists and genocidal maniacs with a woman who’s suffered more than anyone should have to after surviving the apocalypse, and who may well be slightly mad.

Amber starts to push aside the bookcase near the wall. It’s far too big for her to move by herself, but she’s giving it a solid effort, planting her feet against the plush carpet and shoving with all of her strength.

He never was one for sitting around and letting others do all the work, after all. Time to be proactive. Jamie moves in to help her, bracing his arms above hers and slowly moving aside the heavy piece of furniture. Amber grins up at him and between them, they have enough strength to push the bookshelf aside. 

And in the wall, there’s a door. She runs a hand along the rough stone of the wall, mouthing words or numbers to herself, and then presses the corner of one above her head. There's a gentle _click_ as the corner depresses into the brick and a narrow portion of the wall just barely wide enough for Jamie's shoulders to fit through opens. 

"Yes! Thank you, Netrophil," Amber mutters. 

Jamie gapes at it. “Has this really been here _the whole time?_ ”

Amber grins at him. “Right? I’m kind of surprised myself, to be honest. I wasn’t sure it’d be here.”

He gives her an incredulous look. “You weren’t _sure?_ ”

“Not at all. I heard rumors from some friends at uni, but it’s not like any of us would’ve had the chance to find out, you know?” She opens the door, revealing a tight passageway absolutely full of dust and cobwebs. “This should lead outside. If we move now, we should be able to get past the guard patrols. Here, give me your hand and don't let go. It's going to be dark in there. And probably full of spiders. You're not scared of spiders, are you?"

"No, of course not," Jamie lies, shuffling into the hallway after her and pulling the 'door' shut behind himself. It closes with a smooth click, pushing out a small gust of air into the passageway. Something thin and wispy passes over his forehead and he has to fight the urge to keep from flailing blindly at any potential spiders. The darkness that surrounds him is deep and oppressive.

Amber grabs his hand and pulls him after her. He stiffens at first and almost shies away from her before coming to his senses and wrapping his fingers around her hand. It's been a very long time since anyone has touched him gently. The only physical touches he's received in the past few months have been at the end of a boot to his back or a baton to his ribs (Sigrid didn't want to have to explain away any bruises on his face when parading him around her dinner parties, so most of his beatings have been ‘gentle’ compared to others).

But Amber isn't trying to hurt him. She holds his hand firmly, guiding him through the passage. She takes care to warn him of sharp turns or stairs leading downward with nearly silent murmurs. The walk is long and mostly silent; they can hear murmurs from inside the rooms they're passing by but nothing distinct. The air is thick and stuffy, but gradually turns chill and damp the further they go.

Her hand is thin, cold, and covered in thick bumpy scars; burn scars, he’d reckon. He’s got a few himself from some particularly nasty assignments with the ERF. But these are too ordered and clean to be anything more than torture marks. He tightens his hold when he feels just how cold her hand is, an instinctive reaction. She squeezes his hand in return and then stops. 

"Hang on. We're here. If I remember right, there should be a release..." She lets go of his hand and he has to fight the sudden urge to grope for it blindly. He isn’t claustrophobic, but standing inside the walls of a building full of people gleefully planning your execution with freedom _this close_ is a bit stressful, to say the least. And her hand was still cold.

For a long time there’s nothing but darkness and their breathing. A sudden _click_ sounds out ahead of them, and Jamie tenses. He knows the likelihood of anyone hearing it is slim to none, but it still seems ungodly noisy in the still, musty darkness that surrounds them. To his ears, it sounds like a cannon shot that will bring them unwanted attention.

It brings neither. A pool of light eases into the passage, temporarily blinding Jamie, before easing into dim yellow light. They're in a tunnel, with old and rough gray brick arching above them. A small LED lantern hangs from the wall, casting light over the smooth floor. A breeze cuts through the tunnel, damp and cool. Amber motions him out of the passageway and shuts the wall behind him.

"Right, step one complete," Amber says quietly. She glances up and down the tunnel, keeping one hand on his arm. Her clothes are covered in dust. The yellow jumpsuit hangs loosely on her small frame, and is covered in dust from the passageway. She idly brushes at it, deep in thought. Jamie follows the movement. The bruises on her wrist are fresh and look like they came from manacles. The scars he felt on her hand and wrist stand out clearly in the dim light. 

"What's step two?" he asks quietly.

"Step two is making sure we go the right way down this tunnel. This place is used by smugglers, mostly. Sigrid probably knows about it, but I don’t think she’s been using it," Amber replies, grabbing his hand again. Her hand is still cold. "Come on, follow me. I know a place."

"How? No offense, but you were just as locked up as me. How can you know any of this?” Jamie asks. He’s still following her, of course. She’s holding his hand tightly and he’s not eager to let go of her.

“I ran with a bad crowd during uni and they showed me a few things. Also, you totally don’t have a choice unless you want Sigrid to bump up your execution date. Which would be tragic, considering I went to all this trouble to find your window,” Amber replies, guiding him down the tunnel. “I am cursed with the knowledge of what the Minister looks like in her underwear now.”

Well, fair enough. His curiosity isn’t exactly satisfied, but she’s made a few good points. It really doesn’t matter at the moment. He follows her down the damp tunnel in silence, keeping hold of her hand. She stops suddenly in front of him and he bumps into her with a quiet grunt.

“Sorry--”

“Quiet,” Amber orders, squeezing his hand for emphasis. He goes quiet and still immediately. Amber squeezes his hand, then lets go of it to feel along the wall to her left. “It should be here, if the plans I read are right.”

Another soft _click_ , another slight rumble, and a door opens just enough to reveal a ladder leading up.

Amber turns to grin at him before moving towards the ladder and climbing up. Jamie follows her and finds himself inside a shallow cave. The entrance is obscured by thick hedges and vines, but there's a small path winding between them. Amber waves for him to follow her and dashes into the hedges.

The night air hits him fully once he winds his way through the hedges. Amber is standing among the grass and mud, almost bouncing on her heels in excitement. Jamie stands beside her, slowly turning around to get his bearings. They're at the edge of the palace grounds.

They've done it. They escaped.

From a door that had been in his cell _the whole time._

He decides that he will never tell Five about this. She wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

Amber pumps her fist into the air, grinning. “Yes! We did it! Well, kind of.” She turns and smiles up at him, reaching up to flick his shoulder. “Sorry. Spider. And you kind of look like you just took a swan dive into a dust bath, Your Majesty.”

"And you look like you spent half the night climbing down the side of a building," Jamie retorts, smirking. "All right, what's the plan?"

“Now we head west, find the road, and then follow alongside it until we reach an old warehouse close to the highway,” Amber responds, half to herself as if trying to remember. “Assuming it hasn’t been raided yet, we should find supplies and, if we’re _really_ lucky, maybe a working van.”

“Could be zombs along the way,” Jamie says, stretching a bit. It’s been so long since he’s been on a run; he knows he’s going to be horrifically slow compared to his old runner days.

“Then we avoid them. Come on, let’s find the road first.” With that, Amber takes off at a slow, light jog, heading west.

Jamie follows, giddy with disbelief. The night is peaceful, though he can hear the distant sounds of civilization from the palace behind him (baffling in and of itself), and the moon is bright enough to see by. He takes in his surroundings, feeling himself relax a bit more the further they get from the palace.

Amber keeps looking up at the sky as they jog through the woods, slowing to watch a stray comet or trace a constellation. Jamie reaches out to gently touch her arm when he nearly passes her for the third time in as many minutes. “Amber. We better keep moving. They'll be looking for us, and you'll only catch your death out here.”

She blinks at him, and blushes. “Sorry. Sorry, I just.. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen the sky, you know? I forgot how pretty the stars can be. My brother used to draw out silly constellations for me when I was little. I found the edges of one through the trees.”

Jamie smiles at her sadly. “Yeah. I know. Plenty of time for stargazing at Abel, though.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you're right,” Amber says. “Something to look forward to.”

She casts one last, longing look at the stars before jogging ahead of him. He follows her into the dark.

*** * ***

They keep to the trees, following a cracked asphalt road towards a small clump of warehouses tucked away near a freeway and long abandoned train station. Vague, shuffling shapes limp between the buildings, dragging limbs along the road and leaving behind slick trails that gleam in the moonlight. Jamie and Amber avoid them easily; shamblers used to be horrifying, but now they barely register as dangerous so long as you kept your distance and didn’t draw attention to yourself. 

Amber reaches out to take his hand once they get past most of the shamblers, tugging him down an alleyway between two hulking buildings. Unlike most of the alleys he’s had the misfortune of running through, this one isn’t overflowing with corpses and trash. It’s a dim, chill walk down the alley, but it seems safe enough as they walk past various doors.

“You know, I used to dream about rescuing royalty from, like, death and torture and all that when I was a kid. This is kind of a dream come true," Amber says lightly as she looks at the passing buildings. She idly taps her thumb against the back of his hand as they walk, counting doors with each gentle tap.

“You couldn’t have wanted unicorns or to be Wonder Woman or something?” Jamie mutters, keeping close to her. He pauses, thinks back to Carena's younger days, and adds, "Or a fire breathing dinosaur?"

Amber looks over her shoulder at him and shoots him a playful wink. “Who says they weren’t involved?”

Jamie snorts, hiding a small grin. He’s missed being able to talk to someone who isn’t a bloody maniac. Amber is a breath of fresh air compared to the pain, blood, and torture he’s witnessed over the past year. Judging by the way she keeps glancing at him, she feels the same way. “Suppose it’s good your dreams are coming true.”

“Right, the closest I got before this is when I rugby tackled some idiots into a pond for bullying my brother.”

"Good to know I rank higher than waterboarding your brother's bullies in a smelly pond," Jamie replies dryly. That earns him a wicked grin. He snorts back a laugh, smirking back as they trace a wandering path through another alley.

“I do have one complaint, though,” Jamie says.

“Oh?” Amber stops them in front of a door, letting go of his hand to test the lock. The door swings open slowly, creaking quietly. The room inside is a garage, dimly lit by a hole in the roof that’s allowing the full moon to shine inside. There are a few other doors inside the room, but the most important feature is the dingy work van facing a garage door on the other side of the wall.

“Yeah. No noble steed. Think you missed a vital step.” He sniffs. “Really, it’s a bit disappointing. There’s always a noble steed. How else can royalty be carried away happily ever after?"

Amber quirks a brow at him. “Be careful what you wish for, Your Majesty. I will totally paint a flaming unicorn dragon on the side of this van out of spite.”

Jamie smirks at her in return. “You’d get along great with Runner Five. And call me Jamie, yeah? Don’t need to get all formal with me.”

“I’ll take your request into consideration, Your Majesty,” Amber replies primly. She smirks at his exasperated look and walks into the garage.

The van looks neglected, but it doesn’t carry the years long neglect found among most of the cars on the streets of the cities these days. This is relatively well taken care of. Amber wanders through the garage, casually lifting up a box from a nearby cart. At Jamie’s curious look, she grins.

“Lock picks.” She pockets the box. “Look for the keys. I’m going to look for a few supplies. I think the group that was here before us left some weapons and travel bags around somewhere.”

“What group is that?” Jamie asks, jogging for the far wall. There’s a workbench there, lined with tools, with keys lining the wall above it. Most are covered in dust and spider’s webs, but one set is gleaming and new. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

There’s movement at the sound of their voices. One of the doors near Amber rattles and thumps in place, and the low, unmistakable groan of a zombie follows, muffled and weak. The door holds, but the frame rattles. Jamie eyes it warily.

“The Pit Vipers. They’re not going to be pleased we’ve been here, so we should move quickly,” Amber answers, moving away from the door and searching the lockers near her. She opens one and grabs a small bag, pulling it out of the locker. It catches and stops halfway. Amber stares at the thin chain leading from the gym bag to the wall. Something _clicks_ and clanks on the other side of the wall. “What the--”

The door bursts open. Dozens of zombies come pouring into the room, crawling, shuffling, and lunging towards them. Their moans echo, becoming louder, reaching the critical mass necessary to form a true horde. Jamie snatches the keys off of the hood and grabs a tire iron, swinging wide to crush the nearest zomb’s head in as he sprints for the van. The zombies are nothing more than shamblers, but those can be deceptively slow in small spaces.

Amber is closer to the door, and two zombies peel away from the pack to lunge for her. Amber drops the bag and twists to the left, ducking out of the zombie’s reach at the last second before roughly shoving it away. Her ankle, however, twists the completely opposite direction. Her foot slips, her ankle pops, and she falls to the floor, cursing and crawling away from the zombs. She pushes herself back onto her feet just before a crawler grabs her foot, limping heavily back towards the door they came in from.

She's barely staying out of reach of the zombies behind her. One manages a staggering half jog while lunging out from behind a tool bench and nearly drags her down to the ground. Two others join it, shuffling towards her with eager moans, cutting her off from Jamie and the van.

He doesn’t think. He clicks the panic alarm on the van, hefts the tire iron in his hand, and starts to smash his way through the newly distracted horde. The van's lights flicker on and off, and the horn starts to beep rhythmically, drowning out the groans of the zombies and briefly disorienting Jamie from the sudden change in light. Most of the horde turns and shuffles towards the van, and the unfortunate few that stand between him and Amber are quickly dealt with.

He drops the tire iron when he gets close and leans down to sweep her up into his arms. She clings to his shoulders as he quickly takes them back out of the garage and into the alley.

Amber sputters. “You _idiot_ \--you got all this way and you’re just leaving the van behind? You should have gotten inside it and--”

“Would you have left me behind if I’d fallen?” Jamie asks, carrying her towards the tube station. He can hear a few stragglers shuffle along behind him, but the majority of the zombs are being drawn towards the van’s alarm. Eventually the ones behind him should lose interest, as well. 

Amber glowers at him as he begins the slow, careful walk down the stairs. “That’s not the point, I’m not the bloody King of England.”

“My life’s no more important than yours, and I ain’t leaving you behind,” Jamie says firmly. “We’ll find another way, alright? You know this place better than me. Which way am I going?”

Amber huffs, but seems to resign herself to being carried. She still doesn’t seem altogether pleased with him, of course. "There's an abandoned tube station one block south of here. There should be a safe house hidden along the tracks. Take a left at the platform, and then head into the tunnel. There’s a door in the wall between platforms.” She’s silent for another minute and then adds, “You’re still an idiot.”

“Been called worse things in my life,” Jamie answers easily. “And you’ll get used to it.”

To say Amber sulks the entire walk there wouldn’t quite match reality. She seethes, holding his shoulders in her thin, cold hands and peering behind him every now and then. Jamie can feel her judgement and can’t bring himself to care. He’s not leaving her behind just so he can make a clean escape into Abel territory. 

He finds the entrance to the station. The stairs leading down are damp and slick, and he takes his time with each one. Emergency lamps built into the ceiling of the station provide a dim and slightly foreboding light. Well enough to see by, but the only way to make it creepier down here would be complete darkness.

“Surprised there’s still lights around here,” Jamie mutters once they reach the bottom of the stairs. The air is damp, stale, and smells vaguely of rot. Not much different from the air above ground, really.

“This place is connected to the same grid that feeds power to the Ministry’s buildings further in London proper,” Amber says, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “They haven’t really gone around and disconnected anything they don’t need. Wouldn’t be worth their time.”

“Makes sense. How’s your ankle feel?” Jamie’s arms start to strain with the effort of carrying Amber, despite how thin and underweight she seems to be. Jamie shifts her in his arms, adjusting his hold as he starts down the tunnel. The lights are more spread apart down here, but Jamie can make out the distant shape of a thick, steel door in the shadows.

“It’s burning,” Amber replies glumly. “I definitely sprained it back there.”

“I’ll take a look at it when we get to this safe house of yours,” Jamie says as they draw close to the door. “Assuming this one isn’t booby trapped, too.”

“We’ll find out.”

He sets Amber down outside the door, staying close to her until she balances herself against the slick brick of the wall. Jamie tests the rusted, red door, and it swings open on silent hinges. It’s dark as sin in there, and he flails for a light switch, flicking it on in the vague hope that the power to this room is functional. The light clicks on, revealing a bunker with three beds along the wall, a tiny bathroom to his left, and a room stacked with crates and boxes to his right. He walks through the rooms, checking corners for zombies, people, or cameras, and finds none. It’s empty. And that’s as good as safe, these days. 

He walks out of the room and offers her his hand. “It’s clear. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

She ignores his hand and limps into the room on her own. Frustrated, he follows her inside and shuts the door behind them. There’s a heavy metal brace along the inside and he slides it home while she hobbles over to the nearest bed and sits down with a sigh.

“How’s that ankle look?”

“Swollen,” Amber replies, propping it up on one of the boxes. “I’ll keep off of it. Check the boxes in the next room. They’ll have supplies there for us. Look for clothes, blankets, things like that.” She touches her ankle and winces. “Maybe a first aid kit. I’ll look in the crates in this room. We need anything we can get at this point.”

“Right,” Jamie says, ducking into the next room. He starts to peel open crates lining the walls. Most of them are empty, but he does find a first aid kit mounted to the wall and a pair of crutches leaning against the wall beside it. Another crate is full of tightly sealed plastic tubs filled with clothes, batteries, flashlights, and shoes. That’s godsend in itself; Amber’s been walking this whole time in thin slippers.

He starts pulling out things left and right, gathering a small pile of things to bring to Amber once he finishes his search. The clothes are the most important part by far; Amber needs to get out of that bright yellow jumpsuit before they go anywhere else.

“So good news, bad news time,” Amber calls out from the next room.

“Is the bad news that we’re about to die?” Jamie calls back.

“No?”

“So it’s good news, good news time, then.”

“I can’t believe I like you,” Amber replies, slowly limping into the room and holding two cans in her hands. “ _Anyway_ , the good news is that this place is packed with food.”

“And the other good news?”

Amber narrows her eyes at him. “The _bad news_ is that we only have tins of spam and beets for food. Just whole crates of the stuff.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Jamie goes quiet, and makes a face. “Bloody hell.”

“It’s fine! We'll just. You know. Deal. And hopefully our intestines survive the torture to come. It can’t be that bad, right?”

Jamie shrugs. "Right. Better than starving."

*** * ***

It is definitely that bad.

*** * ***

"New plan," Amber says three days later, packing up their things in two backpacks Jamie found in his exploration earlier. She’s wearing a pair of jeans, scuffed boots, and a shirt and jacket that are too big for her. She looks slightly manic as well. "We bring along one tin each and then burn them both as a sacrifice and penance for whatever sins we've committed to earn this."

She shrugs on her backpack and tosses his backpack towards him. "Also we're leaving and we are _never_ speaking of this again."

Jamie grabs the backpack and slings it over his shoulders. "I'd settle for burning this place down, personally. Where are we headed?"

Amber settles into the crutches, making her way towards the door. "Back into London. If we stick to the poorer side of town, we'll have more zombies than guards to deal with. Frankly, that’s an improvement over our current situation.”

Jamie can’t disagree with that. “Lead the way.”

*** * ***

Sneaking back into London proper is much easier than Jamie would have thought possible. By the next evening, they’re at the edge of town, where those less favored or less trusted by Sigrid’s cult are forced to live. The poor side of town doesn’t benefit from any walls; that’s a luxury reserved for Sigrid’s supporters. The poor are left to patrol and defend their homes by themselves. Soldiers wearing uniforms with the words _Civil Patrol_ stenciled across their chests and backs walk a steady beat through the crowds, but don’t seem to focus on any one particular person. Every now and then they pull aside someone for a brief interrogation that ultimately seems to go nowhere. Some outright steal food from a few people. 

People make a point to not look them in the eye and Jamie is careful to do the same. The last thing he needs is to draw unwanted attention to himself. He’s not eager to be a prisoner again, and he knows Amber isn’t able to run away quickly if they’re found. Her ankle is still weak, and she’s walking with a pronounced limp, bracing herself on his left arm as a way to relieve some of the effort of walking from herself. Fortunately, no one is all that interested in staring at a pair of exhausted people walking home for the night, and they pass through the main roads without notice or comment.

Jamie relaxes when they duck into an alleyway between two of the smaller and more rundown buildings on the street. There are less people here, likely due to the utterly foul smelling trash lining the alley. Amber guides him down a set of stairs leading down towards a door set in the wall. 

Amber ducks down and pulls out the lockpicks she found at the garage, balancing awkwardly while she starts to pick the locks.

“You sure breaking into some place we’re not sure is safe is a good idea?”

“Better than the alternative. We can’t cross the city and we don’t have a good way to hide your face. Which, you know, is something of an issue for a King.”

“We could use a scarf or a mask.”

"Nope. Illegal. She's even banned hats," Amber says off-handedly. "Wearing one will only draw attention."

"She's banned _hats?"_

"Oh, she's banned all sorts of things. Books, music, certain types of art. Anything associated with royalty, so no purple or red clothing." She huffs, struggling with the lock. "Absolutely ridiculous. Do you know how _devastating_ I look in red?"

Jamie isn't sure this is real life anymore. "Can't say I've had the pleasure."

"Remind me to fix that later, possibly after I chew this bloody lock off--" There's a quiet _clink_ as the locks disengage and the door pops open. "Ha. See, I told you I was a natural. Come on, get inside."

“Is it safe to stay here?” Jamie asks as he ducks inside. The flat isn’t really the best. In fact, it isn’t much of anything; a sofa, dust covered and worn at the edges, a sleeping bag, a lamp, and a kettle in the small kitchenette at the back. Netrophil doesn’t believe in hiding in luxury, apparently.

“Safer than out there, trust me. Homelessness is illegal, you know.” Amber nudges him inside a bit further, shutting the door behind him. “This will hold us over until we can get to the next safe house. It’ll take us a few days to cross the city. Travel is pretty restricted at night. There are civil patrol units and blockades all over the city.”

“Lovely,” Jamie mutters. The flat is nothing more than two rooms smashed together as tightly as possible; there’s a small bed tucked into the corner, a ragged sofa on the other side, and a kitchenette crammed in what space remains. A small radio sits on the tiny counter in the corner. The place is mostly empty, but somehow feels all the more cramped for it. 

Amber moves towards the sofa, sitting down with a relieved sigh as she props up her ankle. She looks as worn and tired as Jamie feels; walking from the station and circling around to the poorer side of London had been an unpleasant experience for them both. Amber needs crutches to walk, and when her back and shoulders couldn’t take anymore strain, Jamie would carry her on his back. Jamie wants nothing more than to lay down and sleep.

“They’re going to start kicking doors down to find me, you know,” he says, sitting down on the bed.

"Not yet. You think she's going to admit she _lost you?_ Please. That'd be a nightmare for her. She'll look _weak._ And she can't stand that." Amber gently touches her ankle and winces, drawing her hands back. "She also can't afford it. Weakness isn't tolerated by the Wakened Land cultists and that goes double for their leadership."

"You seem to know an awful lot about them."

"She only spent years trying to get me to join her merry little cult," Amber replies dryly. "I was never interested, personally. No matter what torture she had in mind. She’s very fond of mind games."

His eyes fall to the orderly burn scars that mark the back of her hand and line her forearm. There really isn't much he can say to that. He takes a bottle of water and half heartedly brushes dust off of a nearby chair before giving up on the pretense and sitting down. He tries for a lighter topic. "How did you know about this place? You were kept under lock and key just like I was."

"I was with Netrophil for awhile before they caught me," Amber says, sitting down across from him. "My friend Evan had me memorize every safehouse and supply cache in southern England years ago. A lot of them are gone but..."

"No wonder Sigrid had you, then."

"Oh, she had me for a completely different reason. Netrophil was just a convenient excuse for her to arrest me." She huffs. "I have Janine de Luca to thank for the last few years I've spent in that jumpsuit. There's a woman I'd like to have a private conversation with."

Jamie frowns, tossing his bottle of water back and forth between his hands. "She had good intentions. She thought they were terrorists."

Amber scoffs. "Most of us were just idiot university students. A few of the older members maybe deserved jail time but that isn't what they got."

Jamie gets the sense that he’s treading on thin ice with this topic. He decides to change the topic. “You think their old safe houses will work?”

“For now, sure. After all, Netrophil is gone,” Amber leans back on the sofa, reaching up to rub her eyes. “Food will be lean, but it’s worlds better than beets and spam. We might have to go without for a day or two.”

Jamie isn’t fond of that idea. Amber looks as though she’s gone without more often than not. He can’t easily think of an alternative, though. “Right. I’m not too keen on the idea of food at all after the past few days.”

“Neither am I.” She goes quiet and still, and Jamie can tell she’s a few moments from sleep.

“You sure you don’t want the bed?” he asks.

“No. Too comfortable,” Amber mumbles back.

Jamie almost presses the point, but ultimately decides against it. He grabs the least dusty looking blankets he can find in a basket beneath the bed and spreads it over her. That leaves him without one, but he’s used to sleeping without a blanket.

She opens an eye and gives him a small smile before settling in to sleep. Jamie sits on the bed and thinks. The sound of the road is faint inside the flat, but still loud enough that he can hear it clearly. It’s so like _before_ that Jamie’s thrown by it. He could almost imagine the world before the virus. The sun isn’t easily visible through the high windows, but he can see the afternoon light. Barely.

He marvels at the sound and at his freedom (perilous as it is) and lets himself drift off to sleep.

*** * ***

He wakes up to whimpering cries and the sound of a struggle in the dark.

Jamie is on his feet in an instant, shoulders tight and fists clenched, ready to defend himself. He flails for the nearest light, flicks it on, and tenses.

The room is empty, save for himself, and Amber, who tosses and turns restlessly on the sofa. Jamie looks around, willing his half asleep mind to wake, and rubs his eyes before shuffling over to the sofa. Amber’s legs are trapped in the blanket he gave her earlier, and she’s shifting back and forth on the sofa.

A nightmare. Jamie sighs, kneeling down near the sofa, doing his best to not loom over her or crowd her (a feat unto itself, given how cramped the place is) and clears his throat. “Amber?”

Amber whimpers, and Jamie winces, speaking louder. “Amber, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

This time she snaps awake, pale and trembling, her eyes darting to every dark corner of the room before settling on him. “Wha--”

“Nightmares,” Jamie says softly. “Easy. You’re all right.”

Amber sits up, rubbing her eyes and letting out a shaky sigh. “God, that was terrible. Sorry for that. I thought I had them under control.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“Sure, except for the part where I’ve just ruined your sleep with my nonsense.”

Jamie frowns. “It isn’t nonsense, either. You’ve got more reason than most to have nightmares these days.” She looks at him, startled, and his frown grows deeper. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just not used to getting that sort of reaction to my nightmares. Sigrid’s guards were a lot less...accommodating.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t them,” Jamie says. He can only imagine what Sigrid’s guards did when her nightmares struck. In his own experience, mockery was the least of it. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I know that. Intellectually, at least. That doesn’t make it any easier. It’s not like I was subject to an overabundance of care and understanding from others since the apocalypse began,” Amber mutters darkly. She sighs, running a shaking hand through her hair. “Look, just give me a minute. Can you get me a drink? Water?”

Jamie nods, standing up to grab her a bottle of water from his backpack. He hands it to her before sitting back down on the bed across from her. She takes it and peels at the label, her eyes unfocused and distant. She makes a point to not meet his eyes, as if she’s ashamed of her nightmares.

The safe house is quiet and has entered a tense sort of calm by the time Amber speaks.

"She was going to have me executed ahead of you, you know. It was a last minute decision. I think one of Abel’s runners got close to discovering where I was hidden and it spooked her," Amber says, tapping her fingers on the bottle. "She said it would be a proper warm up for her men and that I was better off dead than alive since I wouldn’t cooperate with her. I threw a chair at her after she said that. She considered that rude for some reason."

Jamie is quiet for a moment. "That would've been a disaster. Her men were going to fire blanks from rifles swapped out by one of Abel’s agents. One of Abel's people was going to blow up fake blood packs under my shirt to make it look like I'd been killed. The whole thing would’ve gone up in flames if they’d put you ahead of me."

Amber blinks at him. "Oh. That would have been terribly confusing on my part, then."

Jamie thinks that's something of an understatement. Sigrid's people would have been confused, shrugged, and switched out their rifles with fresh ones to finish the job. He and Amber would _both_ have been killed long before Abel could do anything to help. "It's a good thing we got out. 'Course, Abel's probably mad with worry now."

Amber tilts her head at him. "Did you live with Abel very long? They didn’t cover that much in the radio broadcasts I heard."

"Yeah, was one of their runners years ago before they made me King,” Jamie replies, shrugging. “They’re good people. Insane, the lot of them, but solid people.”

Amber taps the sofa and frowns up at the ceiling, as if trying to figure out what exactly she wants to say. Finally, she asks, "Does Sam Yao really have a goatee?"

Jamie snorts. "No. He tried once. It was a disaster."

Amber considers that. “I thought they were lying about that. Maybe not everything, but definitely that.”

Jamie stops and looks at her. _Really_ looks at her. His stomach sinks when his suspicions start to form. "Why do you ask? Why would Sigrid mention anything to you about Sam?"

"Well, he's my brother, for a start,” Amber replies dryly. “And Sigrid did so _love_ to talk to me about him when I was being uncooperative. Which was often, to be fair.”

Jamie stares at her, feeling sick. “Amber, how long did Sigrid have you?”

“She found me during her little Netrophil purge. Two years ago? Three? Honestly, I don’t know,” Amber rubs her eyes. “It all blends together. I wasn’t kept in a place with windows until the night I broke out with you. Sigrid would visit, but it isn’t like she’d announce the day or time. She only allowed light in the room when she was there. I’m still terrified I’m going to wake up and find myself back in that black room with nothing but a jumpsuit on.”

Something clicks in Jamie’s mind. That’s why Amber’s nightmares started tonight. Their last safehouse had lights on constantly (easier to find the bathroom after their little adventure with beets and spam), but Jamie turned the lights off in the flat. “That won’t happen again. Promise.”

“You can’t promise that, Jamie,” she says wearily. “We’re nowhere close to safe.”

“I promise you I’ll get you back to Sam,” Jamie says firmly. “I keep my promises.”

Amber looks at him, silent for a moment. “I’d like that. There are a few things I’m eager to talk to Sam about. Things Sigrid told me.”

Jamie isn’t entirely sure he likes her tone, but he brushes it off; she’s just had a nightmare, and god only knows what Sigrid’s been filling her mind with over the past few years. “He’ll be glad to see you, Amber. More than you realize.”

Amber nods, finally opening the water bottle and drinking deeply. She caps it, sets it down on the floor, and fixes the blankets. “Right. Let’s get back to sleep. We should wake up for the morning broadcast when the bells ring. It’s mostly propaganda, but we’ll know if they’re looking for us or not.”

Jamie nods. “I’ll keep the lights on.”

The relief on Amber’s face is almost heartbreaking. “Good night, Jamie.”

*** * ***

Clocktower bells wake them up before dawn, distant and insistent, and the road outside becomes livelier with the morning commute. Jamie staggers up and turns on the radio on the counter. There’s only room for one station on the airwaves in London, and that station only plays the Ministry’s broadcast.

It’s standard Ministry propaganda for the most part; snide comments about the rebels followed by reporting on the grand triumphs of the Ministry’s soldiers as they liberate another town or settlement and bring them into the fold. The weather report follows, various notices about which part of town is due to go without food due to strict rations (the poor side, of course), and then, towards the end of the broadcast:

_“Two criminals have escaped from a transport due for a Ministry prison farm. The Minister has authorized Civil Patrol teams to search and detain any and all they suspect to know the location of these convicts. Social credit will be awarded to those who report on any suspicious activity from their neighbors.”_

Amber frowns. “She’s not willing to name us yet. That’s in our favor. But the Civil Patrol will be a problem...” She sighs. “And not just them. If Sigrid’s made an announcement like this, then she’s likely sent her own assassins or mercenaries, too.”

“Can we cross the city in a day?”

“We can. If we’re careful. But we’ll need to leave now. There’s a petrol station we can hide in tonight, if we reach it. Beyond that, there’s a bunker across the creek and in the hills. It was an old Netrophil sanctuary at the start of the apocalypse.”

“Sounds like a plan. How’s that ankle?” Jamie asks, grabbing their bags and her crutches. They’ll have to go without breakfast, but he’s anxious enough to not miss it.

“Sore, but better than it has been in days,” Amber replies, shrugging on her backpack and settling into the crutches. She stretches her ankle, slowly testing it. “I won’t be able to run far, but I might be able to walk without the crutches tomorrow.”

Jamie’s glad for that. He’s a decent runner, but he can’t exactly sprint if he’s carrying Amber. “Right. Ready?”

“Ready.”

*** * ***

They stick to crowds, moving along at a decent pace, despite Amber’s crutches and the fact that Jamie has absolutely no idea where they are. Civil Patrol units move among the crowds with increasing numbers as the day goes on, and they begin to comb through the crowds, batons and radios at the ready. It was only a matter of time that they caught up to Jamie and Amber, and Jamie realizes they’re far too close to avoid too late. They can’t duck away or run; aside from the fact that it would be painfully obvious they’re avoiding the soldiers, Amber wouldn’t be able to move that quickly.

Jamie looks around, desperate to look for a way to distract the soldiers somehow when Amber stops and turns to face him.

“Jamie, I’m going to do something and I need you to not freak out about it,” Amber says softly, watching as the guards approach. They haven’t spotted them yet, but it’s inevitable given their search pattern.

“Depends on what you’re going to do,” Jamie mutters. “No stupid heroics.”

“Oh, that is _rich_ coming from you,” Amber replies, shooting him an annoyed look.

The guards grow closer, boxing them in. Jamie tenses, preparing himself for a fight. If he distracts them long enough, Amber might be able to sneak away in the crowd (though she likely _won’t_ the stubborn--)

Amber hooks her hand around the back of his neck, whispers a quick _sorry_ and then tugs him down towards her. She presses her lips against his in a firm kiss, reaching up to cup his cheek with her free hand just as a guard gets close, stroking his cheek in such a way that it blocks the guard’s view of Jamie’s face. 

Jamie’s too startled to do much more than stare at first, but when he sees the guard start towards them, he cups her cheeks with his hands and returns the kiss, shifting them so that his back faces the guard.

The guard rolls his eyes as he passes by them. “Move it along, you two. No one wants to see that.”

The man moves on, muttering about lovesick fools as he pushes further into the crowd. Amber watches the guard out of the corner of her eye before leaning back with a sigh. She looks up at Jamie, a faint blush forming on her cheeks. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“Neither can I,” Jamie replies, watching the guard disappear. He relaxes as the search party blends into the crowd, moving away from both of them. “Bloody hell.”

After a few moments, Amber speaks. “Jamie?”

“Hm?”

Amber smirks up at him. “You can let go of me now.”

Jamie immediately drops his hands from her face, feeling his own heat up. He clears his throat. The knowledge that he just _kissed_ her finally starts to sink in, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. “Right. Um. Good thinking, Amber.”

She gives him an amused, contemplative look before taking his hand in hers and guiding him through the crowd. Jamie follows her obediently, letting his mind drift as they walk.

He thinks of Archie for a moment, and thinks she’d get along with Amber.

He hopes Amber doesn’t fall to the same fate.

*** * ***

They make it out of the city just before nightfall, breaking into the petrol station and hiding in the back room as the sun sets. There’s no convenient bed here; just cold linoleum flooring and a battered chair and table.

Jamie flips the lightswitch. The lights stay off; no power. He frowns.

Amber sighs, slipping past him to set her crutches down and slowly lower herself to the floor. She props her ankle up on the chair, leaning back against the wall. “Don’t worry, Jamie. I’ve slept in the cold and dark before, and I can do it again.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Jamie mutters, shrugging off his backpack and sitting down beside her.

“You’ll live. Besides, it’s better that we keep the lights off. We don’t know if any Pit Vipers are out looking for us or not,” Amber says, tapping the floor nervously. The sunlight is drifting from a surly red to darkness. “I’m not looking forward to spending the night in the dark alone, but it’s for the best. Assuming I can keep my nightmares from giving us away.”

Jamie reaches out and covers her hand with his. “You won’t be alone in the dark, Amber.”

He can’t see her face, but he doesn’t feel her freeze beneath his hand. She’s silent for a few moments before turning her hand and gently intertwining their fingers, pressing her palm to his. “Thanks, Jamie.”

Jamie smiles, holding her hand as the sun sets. Amber doesn’t fall asleep right away; she clings to his hand in the dark, and then hesitantly rests her cheek against his shoulder. Jamie squeezes her hand before letting go and slowly wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She tenses, and he worries that he’s overstepped a boundary before she presses against him, melting into the embrace.

Jamie stays awake late into the night, dozing and holding her close, stirring to make sure she doesn’t fall into a nightmare. She stirs every now and then, but mostly sleeps, pressing against tightly, as if afraid he’ll disappear. Jamie realizes just how touch starved she must be, and feels another wave of heartbreak and anger just as he starts to drift off to sleep.

*** * ***

This time, he wakes to voices, unfamiliar and cold, just outside the station.

“Viper Six here. No sign of them.”

There’s a burst of static, and then a tinny voice comes over a radio. “Understood, Six. Move to the next sector.”

“Copy,” Six says, bored. There’s another brief sound of static, and then the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle engine kicking to life. The sound is near deafening, echoing through the station, before Six kicks the bike into gear and rides off. The sound of the engine mingles with distant thunder, and the air feels wet and damp. Storms have come in during the night.

Amber is still tucked against his chest from the night before, tense and awake. She meets his eyes and whispers. “Vipers. We need to cross that creek and then into the forest as soon as we can.”

Jamie nods, reluctantly pulling his arm back so she can stand up. “Can you move quickly if we need to?”

Amber tests her ankle, adding more weight and pressure to it. She relaxes. “For short bursts, yeah. I think it’ll carry me through the day, at least. That’s all we need. Just one more day.”

“Right, one more day.” Jamie has an odd feeling about this. He stands, stretches, and grabs their backpacks. Outside, the wind picks up, and the rain starts in earnest. “That noise is going to rile up the zombs.”

“Then we’ll have to move quick,” Amber says, hastily braiding her hair to keep it out of her face. “There’s a village further down the road, near some rough country. If we stick to the hills outside the village, we can move around the zombies easier. We just have to reach the bridge and cross it.”

“Reach the bridge. Sounds simple enough.”

As he says that, another crack of thunder echoes overhead, smothering the sound of a motorcycle engine in the distance. 

*** * ***

The rain pounds them the moment they’re halfway to the village, pelting them with ice cold water that soaks through their clothes within seconds. Jamie’s teeth start to chatter when the wind gusts, and he knows that he won’t come out of this with anything less than a horrific cold if he’s lucky. Amber weathers the storm well, but her pace slows considerably when the rain starts; her ankle is too fragile to risk slipping in the mud.

A light turns on in the middle of the road ahead of them. And then another. And then a third. Headlights. The sound of revving engines mingles with the storm. 

Amber stutters to a stop, and Jamie nearly runs into the back of her before she snatches up his hand and tugs him towards the hills. “This way!”

She has to shout to be heard over the noise. Jamie follows her without complaint, sticking close to her. There are trees up the hill, and shambling forms among them; if they’re lucky, they might be able to blend with the zombs as they pass by.

The sound of the motorcycles behind them prove that they are not, in fact, lucky.

The Vipers hound them for the next three hours, coming close and then losing sight of them as Jamie and Amber dash through the trees and mud. The stress of it, the rain, and the terror are enough to sap Jamie of almost all of his energy by the time they find the bridge.

And bridge is a rather charitable name for it. It’s made of old, grey wood, and in normal circumstances, it would be far above the water in the creek. Right now, a constant churning wash of brown roars beneath it, with the occasional zombie arm or head breaking the surface of the swift moving water. They run through freezing mud along the edge of it, heading for the bridge. Jamie’s breathing hard, his shoes caked with mud and gore from crawling zombies he’s kicked away from himself, and Amber isn’t doing much better. It’s almost midday; they’ve been running for hours now.

The engines grow louder behind them, growling and coming nearer. Jamie looks over his shoulder. He can see the first headlights crest the hill behind them, and three others join. Amber squeezes his hand, getting his attention.

She points at the bridge, practically shouting in his voice to be heard. “C’mon, if we get on the other side, we might be able to destroy the bridge. They’ll have to go out of their way for miles to get back!”

Jamie nods, fighting his way through the mud to the bridge. He nudges past her, tests the bridge with one careful step and, after finding it sturdy enough, runs across. The wood shifts beneath his feet, but it holds, and he reaches the other side quickly. He turns around.

“Come on!”

Amber tests her first step--

And with a deafening roar, the water surges up and over the bridge, washing out the supports and causing it to collapse into the waves below. Amber barely has enough time to jump back from the bridge as it's carried off down the river. She stares after it, helpless. 

“ _No!”_ Jamie’s face is a mask of horror, and he stares at her across the river for a moment before ripping off his backpack and opening it. “I’ve got a rope, hang on--”

That won’t do anyone any good, not with the water moving that fast, and especially not a zombie infested river whose freezing temperature alone would be enough to kill. He knows this, but he still tries to find the rope. And the temperature is already dangerously low, jumping into freezing water during an ice storm is probably one of the stupidest things anyone can do. Even with Sigrid's soldiers behind them.

“Jamie--” Amber calls out.

“I said I’ve _got this!_ Just--just give me a minute--” His voice cracks at the end. He can’t help her. He can’t save her. Just like he couldn’t help Archie or the Roller Girls--

“Jamie, _go!_ ” Amber yells, “Go to Abel! I’ll find a way around! I promise!”

And, without waiting to hear his response, she turns and runs, favoring her right ankle as she runs back into the hills. Jamie stares as she disappears back into the rain. The lights in the rain follow her, ignoring him completely.

He stands alone in the rain.

After a few hours, he stumbles away from the bridge. He’s lost without Amber. Literally. He doesn’t recognize the area he’s in, and he’s not sure if it’s friendly or full of Sigrid’s soldiers. Amber mentioned a bunker in the hills, so he makes his way towards the nearest hill.

He’s crossing a road when a battered work van skids to a stop in front of him, the sliding doors slamming open to reveal Runner Five, Paula Cohen, and a man who seems oddly familiar to him.

“Bloody hell, Jamie,” Paula says cheerfully, relief flooding her voice. “You really know how to make an exit, don’t you?”

*** * ***

The rain begins to lessen, and the wind falls away. Amber can hear the Pit Vipers behind her; they’ve abandoned their motorcycles and they’ve started to chase her on foot. There's at least three of them. More than she could hope to fight on her own, even with her ankle healed. Not that she would be a match for even one of them, really. She's seen the masked women bring proof of their kills to Sigrid. She knows what they're capable of. She doesn’t stand a chance.

But she’s not going back to Sigrid alive, either. She has a knife in her backpack, one she found at the tube station. Sigrid will never keep her prisoner again. No matter what. She reaches into her backpack as she runs, pulling out the knife and brandishing it as the first Pit Viper steps in front of her to block her path.

Amber turns to dodge past her and stops. She's surrounded. The Pit Vipers stand around her, weapons held loosely in their hands. They watch her with the bored disinterest of professional killers; all of them are silent. 

She's so exhausted that her arms tremble and burn with the effort it takes to raise her knife. She manages it. She does her best to look dangerous.

That just seems to amuse the Vipers around her. Which is rude, really. Most people with knives are at least _mildly_ threatening.

There's movement behind one of the taller women. The assassins step aside to allow another into the circle. This one moves with the subconscious grace of a killer, her steps purposeful and confident. The others seem to defer to her.

Cool. The head assassin is here to murder her. So at least she has that going for her. 

The woman stops just out of Amber's machete range and pulls off her mask. The assassin is well muscled, with sharp dark brown eyes, and seems to ooze deadly confidence and, oddly enough, impatient aggravation. 

Amber grits her teeth, shifting her stance slightly. She won't win this, but she'll get one good cut in before they kill her--

The woman quirks a brow at her. "Ms. Yao. My name is Janine de Luca. Come with me, we haven't much time before Sigrid's people find us."

Amber stares at her, thrown off guard. "I--what?"

"You are Sam Yao's sister and a former member of Netrophil," Janine says impatiently. "You go by an alias when necessary, though anyone who's spent ten minutes with your brother would recognize you in a heartbeat. I am here to bring you to safety."

Amber is silent for a moment. "I'm now confused and vaguely insulted."

"You'll live,” Janine replies. She tosses a backpack to Amber. “Come along, Ms. Yao. Leave your old backpack behind. We'll need to fake your death to keep Sigrid's people away from you. Fortunately for you, I have just the thing in mind.”

Amber stares at her for a moment before sheathing her machete and grabbing the backpack. "Fake my death?"

"Yes. I intend to make it look like you stepped on a landmine while fleeing from zombies.” Janine points further into the woods and begins to jog, apparently confident that Amber will follow her.

Well, she’s right to be. Amber shrugs on her backpack and follows Janine. The other Pit Vipers disappear into the forest around them, moving so silently and smoothly that Amber almost doesn’t catch it. She follows Janine through the woods to a road she and Jamie had cut across an hour ago. Janine climbs into a jeep parked near the hedges and waits for Amber to climb in before starting it and driving down the road.

“Were you the ones chasing us the whole time?” Amber asks.

“No. If we were, we would have caught you much sooner,” Janine replies. “We almost did catch you, in fact, but we needed to take care of your pursuers first. The false Vipers are becoming slightly more competent as of late, unfortunately.”

“There are fake Pit Vipers?” 

“Yes. Cheap imitations, though they have stumbled into completing their assignments rather well over the past few months.” Janine brings them to a stop near the edge of a clearing. There’s a body laying in the middle of it, beside an unassuming bag. Janine clicks on her headset. “Eight, you are free to complete your assignment.”

There isn’t an answer to that. There is, however, a rather wet sounding explosion in the distance and Amber winces. Nothing about that sounds pleasant. Janine idly turns on the windshield wipers after a few stray drops of something hits the corner of the windshield.

“So. Who did you just blow up?"

"One of Sigrid's torturers. She was dead before the explosion,” Janine adds at Amber’s horrified look. “One of her last charges killed her during their escape. She just so happens to share some of the same facial features and the same stature as you.”

“There’s a disturbing thought,” Amber mutters.

“Pit Viper Eight will turn in the bounty on your head with those remains. The Vipers will retain their reputation and position within the Minister’s good graces, your safety is assured, and the manhunt ends. A rather neat ending, all things considered.” Janine sounds all too pleased by this.

“Right. What happens to me now?” Amber asks.

Janine gives her a speculative look. “I’m currently unable to cross the border to Abel, now that the bridge has washed away, but the Pit Vipers could always use more help. A position is available, if you’re interested. Otherwise, I will have to insist that you stay within our safe houses until we can take you into Abel territory, which could take some time. The choice is yours, of course.”

Amber shakes her head. “I’ve had enough sitting around in safehouses to last me a lifetime. I’m not exactly an assassin, or really very keen on killing but I can run.” She tests her ankle, and then quickly adds. “Well, usually, I can run.”

“A good runner is invaluable in all things, Ms. Yao. Welcome aboard, Pit Viper Five.”


End file.
